Panic
by TBD
Summary: Lindsay panics and goes to the one place she can feel safe, if even for a moment. Set between episodes 3.12 and 3.14.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** This will be a short three part fic. It is more angsty and dark than my other fic and I am trying a bit of a different style. Enjoy!

**Summary:** Lindsay panics and goes to the one place she can feel safe, if even for a moment.

**Set**: Between episodes 3.12 and 3.14.

**Spoiler**: Up to The Lying Game, 3.14

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the show CSI: NY or its characters.

Thanks to **SallyJetson** for the beta.

**Chapter 1:**

She looks at the door in front of her as she raises her hand to knock, stopping just before it meets wood, and lowering it to her side once again. What was she doing here? She shouldn't be here. Her brain is filled with a million different thoughts all rushing a thousand miles an hour, making her every action seem in slow motion and requiring more energy then she possesses.

She is there because she can't take it anymore. She can't take the thoughts, the visions, the memories. All of it hammers her psyche unrelentingly. She doesn't feel safe; she needs to feel safe, and the last time she did was months ago, but she longs for that feeling again.

FLASHBACK

_A gun is pointed at her head. A real gun, held by a real criminal who had already killed a real person and wouldn't be afraid to do it again. Not only is her life in serious danger, but so is the girls' she's come to protect._

_Her breath is caught in her throat as the man compares her to a photograph and slams it down again, breaking the glass along with her courage._

_"Try again. Who are you?"_

_She is frozen in place as the fiend continues to holler out his question with more frustration and anxiety each time. The ice in her veins finally starts to melt and her fingers open releasing the millions in diamonds and the flash grenade to the floor._

_The bag hits the floor with a soft thump and she waits a moment before forcing the rest of her body to take action as she jumps to cover her charge. The next thing she knows a loud bang sounds and resonates in her ears while the room fills with smoke. She stays in place, partly winded from her movements and partly because her lungs have filled with smoke, and it takes her a moment to regain her much needed oxygen._

_She knows there is motion behind her but she can only hear the faintest of noise through the ringing in her ears as she continues to pant for breath. Through the static one voice sounds and it takes her a moment longer than necessary to identify it but she tries to focus on it alone because it gives her the strength to turn around and answer its call._

_"Danny," is all she says as she makes him out through the smoke. They move towards each other without need of ceremony, and he only spends a moment to make sure she is all right before pulling her into his arms properly. He rests his head on hers and he wraps his arms tightly around her. She continues to pant for breath and she can't tell if it's from the smoke, from him squeezing the limited air from her lungs, or from the fact that her body is closer than it has ever been to his and she can feel the electrical charge even through the bullet-prove vests._

_She uses her hand to latch onto his shoulder to reassure herself that he is really there. She feels like she could stay in his arms forever as she senses their strength, knowing that she is safe, that nothing can harm her. It all starts to feel like a dream as the exhaustion takes over and that thought repeats itself continually through her mind. I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm finally safe.'_

END FLASHBACK

Why is it that she has never felt safer than in those arms? Right now more than anything she needs to feel secure. At home alone in her apartment her demons come for her. She tried to distract herself but tonight nothing would work. She isn't sure if it is from the stress of the ever approaching trial or her recent sleep deprivation, but tonight has been the worst as her horrors plague her, some real and past, some imaginary, but the scariest ones are the ones that cause her to want to take action; action to end it all and finally make it stop.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story and especially to those that reviewed. It really means a lot when you spend the time to let me know what you think, especially since I'm experiment with a new style. As I said before, this story will have three chapters. Here's the 2nd part, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, that would be CBS.

Thank you to **SallyJetson** for the beta :)

**Chapter 2:**

It feels like she's been standing in front of the door forever, when actually it has only been five minutes. She keeps raising her hand to his door and then lowering it, turning away and taking a few steps before coming back and repeating the process again.

He doesn't deserve to have this on his plate. She needs to work through it on her own, if only that actually worked. She could talk to Stella, but she has bugged her enough for one lifetime, and she doesn't actually want to talk. She just wants to be safe, and to be able to sleep for one night without it haunting her. If she could have that, maybe she could make it to the trial and do what she knows she has to.

But no, she's done enough to him already. He doesn't need this and she doesn't need him to see her like this. She'll go and figure out another way, hopefully avoiding a stop at the local nut house. She turns from the door once again.

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Danny arrives in his hallway to see Lindsay at his door. He is shocked, and indulges for a moment in his latest pastime of simply watching her from afar; heaven knows that is as close as he normally gets these days since lately she is detaching herself more and more from everyone and everything. Tonight she seems particularly upset and deflated; her hair is messed up, her cloths are baggy, and what he can see of her face tells him a story of sorrow and fear. She looks more like one of the victims he serves than the spunky girl exuding energy he'd met over a year ago.

He watches as she takes one last look at his door before turning and walking towards him, her mind occupied and her eyes on the floor. As she draws nearer, she raises her head and finally sees him, an expression of horror taking over her blank and drawn face.

"So Lindsay, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" He asks trying to calm the mood, though feeling as though he is on thin ice and they can both fall through at any moment. He doesn't use his name for her anymore, and he makes the conscious effort not to move closer and invade her personal space. She has built a wall around herself, and in consequence he has to mirror it.

Her face calms for a moment as a smile appears. He knows all of her smiles, and this smile is fake as it doesn't work to cover the worry and fear, nor the darkness around her eyes.

"Nothing that can't wait until morning. It's late and I should probably go."

She moves to walk past him and he knows this is his only chance to try and get her to let him in. He's nervous as he reaches out to lightly grab her wrist, making her turn and look into his face. As he stares into her eyes he knows that this one move could change everything, though he doesn't know if it will be for better or worse.

"Come on. Come inside," is all he says as he releases her wrist and walks to his door. He turns to see that she hasn't moved from the spot he left her, so once the door is opened he gestures her inside. They stand there eyeing one another for a few moments and he senses his old Montana trying to defy him, but she soon gives up as her body slouches down losing any energy of her old self it may have gained, and she follows him to the doorway.

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She enters his place and even in her troubled state, she chuckles slightly at the pool table and motorcycle taking over the majority of the room, so quintessentially Danny. She is startled when he speaks behind her, as it doesn't take much to scare her these days, "Want something to drink?" As her heart slows again she formulates her reply, "Just some water maybe."

"Sure, one water coming right up." As he walks over to the fridge she asks, "Is it all right if I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, it's just through there." He points out to his left.

She walks to the small room and shuts the door slowly behind her. Now that she is alone again, she feels vulnerable and she presses her body firmly against the wall, keeping the entire room within her sights. After a few moments she convinces herself that she's all right and walks over to the sink, catching a view of her appearance in the mirror. The reflection isn't her, just like the smiling girl in her pictures at home isn't her. She doesn't know who she is anymore, but she must be somewhere between these two extremes.

As she turns on the tap and begins to wash her hands, it's not water running out but blood. Her hands are covered and the more she tries to wash it off, the worse it becomes. Looking into the mirror she sees her bloodied friends behind her, those who didn't make it out that day. They do nothing but stare at her through the mirror, taunting and condemning her with their eyes. She looks away to fight the visions but her eyes rest on another object. She eyes the blades as her friends urge her to touch its surface and take the instrument into her hands. The light reflects perfectly off its sharp blades as she runs her finger over its surface just enough to sever the skin.

"You hungry for anything?" Danny asks through the door, casing her to drop the weapon to the floor with a clang as she comes to her senses. "Everything okay in there?" he inquires full of concern.

"Yeah, sorry, I'll be out in a sec," she replies as she slowly backs away from his seemingly innocent razor.

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He watches her carefully as she exits the bathroom. Her arms are wrapped around her small body, protecting her from an unknown source, and allowing her to crawl further into herself and away from him. Her face is even paler than a few moments ago and as she lifts her eyes to meet his, he searches them for some sort of recognition, something of his Montana's, but they are empty and lost. He wants to go and wrap his arms around her but is afraid she may break into a thousand pieces, which no one will be able to put back together. With horror he realizes that she is already broken and it may be too late.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone whose read/reviewed my first delve into true angst. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Here is the last part.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI:NY or its characters.

Thanks to **SallyJetson** for the beta.

**Chapter 3:**

She stands and stares at him without really seeing. Her arms are wrapped around her body hoping to hold herself together as she knows she is falling apart. She feels warm, too warm, as microscopic balls of sweat break out over her body.

"You're shaking," he tells her as he steps forward. Is she? She can't even tell anymore, but she isn't surprised considering her heart is still trying to escape from her chest. He gently places a hand on her back directing her to the couch, causing the skin under his touch to cool, slowly breaking her fever.

She sits and he hands her water, which she drinks as if she has been in the desert for days without relief. Her heart begins to slow and for the first time that night she really sees the man in front of her. His face is a mask that she can't interpret, all except for his wide eyes that penetrate straight through her, and as she gazes into them she is careful not to lose herself. They remind her of his eyes before she went undercover, full of concern and, dare she hope, love. His posture is taut as he sits on the coffee table, his hands on the couch on either side of her, capturing and protecting all at once.

"Talk to me here Linds."

Her throat goes dry once again as she fights with herself for what to say, for where to began and what to reveal. He patiently waits her out and she feels his eyes never once leave her face as they continue to search her soul.

Eventually he breaks the silence, "This have anything to do with the stuff you had to put behind you?" he prompts, his voice cracking slightly and his eyes moving from her face.

At his words another event flashes through her mind as she remembers breaking his heart in the hallway. Her heart breaks too whenever she thinks about that day, and she has thought about it so many times in the past months that she is surprised there is anything left to shatter.

"I have to go to Montana," she finally divulges but her voice is raspy and barely above a whisper.

He waits for her to continue and the side of his hand brushes her own, but she doesn't know if it is self-conscious or not. She moves her hand to rest on top of his, gathering strength from the small connection.

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Her hand holds onto his and he squeezes back glad to have some part of her finally reaching out to him. She continues slowly searching for the words. "That night that we were suppose to…" she stops and looks at him for understanding before she continues and he realizes the night in question. The night he hoped they would finally acknowledge what they had and move past the casual flirting.

"I got a call to testify in an old case," she continues shakily, grabbing his hand even tighter and moving it to her lap to be encased in both of hers.

Feeling her insecurities, he tries to reassure her, "You've done this a hundred times. Just present the evidence logically and the rest will fall into place," but the only reactions he gets are frustration and sadness as her eyes fill and a solitary tear runs down her cheek.

"I'm …I'm not testifying as a CSI."

It's then that it dawns on him what all of this means though he doesn't know any details, and he begins to understand her actions. Even through his understanding, there's a small part of him that resents her for not coming to him at the beginning, for not trusting him.

Her solitary tear is solitary no longer as her floodgates open, and any resentment he has breaks away because at least she is here now and now is when she needs him. He gets up and joins her on the couch wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest, his shirt absorbing her pain.

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His arms hold her close as his hand runs up and down her back, his chin resting on her head dropping random kisses into her hair. She clings to him as months of tension and emotion are released. Even after all of her tears are shed, she just holds on, reconnecting herself to the world through him.

She feels herself calming and takes a moment to look up at him. "Thanks. Sorry about your shirt."

"Don't worry about it," he replies as he brushes away the last trace of her tears with his thumb. She settles back down against him and listens to his heartbeat, allowing it to set the rhythm of her own.

"Silver lining to all of this is at least you'll be going home."

She knows he is trying to encourage her but all it does is frustrate her more. "I HATE silver linings," she mumbles into his chest.

She feels more than hears the chuckle resounding through him. "Come on. You get your old bed and home cooked meals. What's not to love?"

She moves away slowly to look into his face, "I like my bed here and besides my parents live 2 hours from Bozeman, so I'll probably only get to see them on weekends," she states giving into some of her self-pity.

"Well when you are home you can get reacquainted with all of those animals you country folk seem to keep. You know all the baaing horses or whatever."

Trying to prevent a laugh she responds, "Horses don't baaa, they neigh. Get your animal noises right."

He lifts his hands defensively in the air, "Hey I'm a city boy. Why would I ever need to know that stuff?"

With a slight huff, she settles back down against him. He strokes her head a few times before asking, "Cows still moo though right?"

A small laugh escapes as she responds, "Yeah, cows still moo." She can't help the smile on her face and she wonders how long it's been since she's felt like this.

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He smiles after seeing some of his Montana reappear and her wall finally breaking. Her body relaxes and a few moments later he notices her breathing slow. Looking down on her, she appears to be sleeping peacefully and her panicked look is all but a memory. He gently brushes a curl from her face, and allows himself to relax. She is safe and that's all that matters.


End file.
